


Coal Fire

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Demon Bucky Barnes, Demon Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Steve Rogers, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tags Contain Spoilers, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Chilly, Foggy, and Lonely. Centralia was a coal mining town, but has since lulled in all facets. Needing to get away from the city for his health, Natasha advises Steve to purchase property in the sleepy settlement. Steve knows there's something happening in the town, he shouldn't keep seeing that tall man with eyes of fire and long black hair around every corner.





	Coal Fire

Natasha’s car was normally smooth, but the unkempt roads sewed a wobbly feeling in Steve’s stomach. At first he believed it to be low blood sugar or just one of his various ailments, but the growing nauseousness quickly became unbearable. The blue road sign was large but decrepit, bleached with whatever sunlight pierced the thick veil of fog. Albeit distorted, Steve could guess what the sign was supposed to say. It should have read, ‘Welcome to Centralia’, but a variety of holes and graffiti rendered it almost illegible. Having done his research on the town beforehand, he knew it to be a small mining village with nothing notable besides the tourist traps and rustic scenery. Steve was only coming here because he knew it had internet, and because of course it was apparently in his best interest. The property was already purchased, but he was not excited to live in it. The clean country air was supposed to help his lung issues, apparently, and the lack of noise pollution was supposed to aid his anxiety. That would be great and all, except for the fact that living in an old home in the middle of nowhere was likely going to trigger his ‘I’m going to get butchered by a slasher’ anxiety. According to Natasha, living outside of a city was actually safer in terms of homicide rates. He’d have nothing to worry about. 

The feeling of nauseousness grew worse as they passed an old rusted street-lamp, once ornate and shiny and black. It flickered through the fog as they passed by. Steve locked eyes with Natasha, who, promptly pulled into the side of the road to give the poor man a break. 

“Don’t be too long now, Stevie.” Natasha spoke, more like a command than a polite request.

The car door was open as soon as the tires came to a stop. Stepping out into the chilly and foggy air, the freshness of the atmosphere shocked his body. This air was not sour or dank like that he had put up with for the majority of his younger life living in the streets of New York. The cool tendrils of damp air slithered their way deep into his lungs, refreshing in that he could feel the chilling sensation even after he exhaled. Natasha had been right. Beyond the forest, the presence of an owl was making itself known, serenaded by a choir of birds and orchestra of trickling water. Nothing in a city could compare to this, and he was only three meters from the bumpy and cracked highway

No dry-heaves happened, nor did any fainting. With that confirmation, Steve scanned his surroundings and came to sit on an old large stone. He wanted to take a moment to just breathe in the free air. Looking into the deep and thick forest, his vision was obscured by both fog and trees but what he saw sent a shiver down his spine. It was not something he saw with his eyes, but it made him sit up from his stone almost instantly. There was something beyond the fog and thicket of trees, he could smell the sour odor of sulfur and feel the warmth radiating out from the forest. The fog twisted and distorted as pavement did under the hot sun, thicker and almost smoke-like in texture. Fear now replaced with curiosity, the young man slowly approached the unseen source of heat. His mind was screaming at him not to follow it, but the other half was just so curious as to what the source of the smell could be. Twigs snapped underfoot and birds called out slowly as he wandered near the forest’s edge. The closer he got, the less suspicious he felt. The fog was billowing towards him from a spot in the ground. Crouching down next to spot in the ground, he could see it clearer as the fog no longer impaired his vision. It appeared to be some sort of geothermal vent, the ground and soil building up into a mound that seemingly breathed in and out from the swelling heat and natural vapor. Steve’s mind wandered to the possibility of hot springs and sighed contently just thinking of it.

Knowing that it likely wasn’t healthy to breathe in whatever vapor was emanating from the ground, Steve covered his mouth with the hem of his blue t-shirt. It was a bitter smell, but he took one last glance and stared into the bright orange ring past the crack, was it magma? A hand on his shoulder startled steve, an embarrassed yelp leaving his lips without permission. Turning to face Natasha, he blushed and glanced down at his feet. There was an unspoken disapproval between the two, as if Natasha had just caught her child breaking a vase. He knew her intentions to only be kind and caring, but he hated that look she sometimes gave him. Steve was not some dying child, he was a twenty-three year old man. Straightening his hunched shoulders, he sighed. She wouldn’t be doing all of this for him if she didn’t care. That look was soon replaced with one of worry.

“Stevie,” She uttered as if intending to continue once gaining his attention.

“Hm?” His smile was filled with false-confidence that his act of ignoring the embarrassment was working.

“It’s likely unhealthy to be breathing fumes from geothermal vents, but you know that too. C’mon, I can sense a gas station up ahead with a greasy slice of pizza calling your name.”

“My weakness…..”

Admitting defeat, Steve held his hands up to his chest in a show of approval. While it didn’t sound too healthy or good to eat, he deserved a treat after a drive of this length. Natasha’s breath was calm and deep, Steve sent her a knowing smile, she was savoring the air too. Naturally, his blue eyes wandered to the bulge in the mossy ground, seeing that same vibrant orange circle the size of a dime. Steve’s pace back to the car quickened upon seeing the orange circle blink up at him.

\--

The roads were unsurprisingly empty, a lack of traffic making itself painfully obvious as their small vehicle crawled up to a flickering stoplight. It was only a courtesy that they stopped to check for oncoming vehicles before turning into the hidden driveway between two large trees. The gas station was as normal as one would expect, glossy pastries preserved indefinitely, spinning slushy machines and the aroma of rotating hot dogs. Sickening at worst, unpleasant at best. The pizza was not finished by Steve, his tongue unable to palate the cheese that definitely tasted moldy in most regards. As they rolled up the winding pathway, the trees seemed to swallow them the further they went into the property. From the looks of it, they’d have lots of green space at least, if the outside gates were any indication of the property lines of course.

The driveway was not empty like the streets, a large white van occupying the otherwise wide parking space. From the arrangements and bookings Steve remembered making before their journey, they paid to have the boxes brought into the home as well. Glancing briefly at the front of the truck, he saw the cabin to be empty. Paying it no mind, his mind wandered to how long it would take to unbox everything. Briefly wishing he could pay them to do that too, the idea vanished as the car came to a jerky stop. Glancing over to natasha as she turned the key and opened her car door, he said.

“Well, we’re here at least. Gotta admit, it’s a bit depressing with all of this fog and grey-ness. I’m sure though I’ll find something to do, or paint at least. Plus, we know it has internet so all of the browsing one could ever want.”

Natasha’s boots clicked against the cracked asphalt as they approached the large victorian home. As an artist, Steve could understand the basics of architecture and appreciate styles of it as well, the history of the home’s appearance was not lost on him. His blue eyes scanned over pink-framing and old windows. The last thing his eyes fell on was the slight iron pike piercing the sky from the roof’s highest point, swaying in the gentle afternoon breeze. From the various studies and backgrounds he has done, the peaked roofs and white trim of this house was just pleasing in a way he couldn’t describe. Even if the color of the house was a bit odd - a light worn-down pink, the house itself was pretty enough to ignore the dated color. This was one of those houses with a fancy bronze knocker. Instinctively, his hands reached out to grasp the cool and smooth metall. Knocking it just for fun, he continued on to pull the door open. The movers were likely already inside. 

The door was locked. Steve mused tiredly.

“Nat, the door’s locked? I’ll try the back?” 

It was odd, but perhaps the key Steve had entrusted to the movers just hadn’t worked or something. Confirming it to himself, he rationalized it as it simply being the key to the back entrance.

“Sure, be careful now.”

“You know it.”

The house was primarily surrounded by a mixture of grass with some areas filled with gravel. Purposefully, his shoes crunched over the mixture of ground rocks. The gritty crunching was calming, but so was the soft coo of a bird now calling out from a distance. It was the same kind he heard from earlier when they pulled into the side of the road- a two toned melody repeated three times. Passing an abandoned water hose and a depressingly deflated ball, Steve finally turned the corner of the house. Instead of a back veranda, the young artist came face to face with a scruffy man. Wearing a dingy navy overall uniform and a very tacky trucker cap, the man’s shoulder-length black hair only added to his overall seediness. At least he had actually found the mover. Knowing that it had not been something gone wrong, steve sighed with relief. Even though Natasha had quite the set of biceps, he knew they wouldn’t be able to lift all of those heavy boxes and furniture pieces without an unnecessarily arduous amount of effort. Steve’s lack of muscles thanked him retroactively.

“Hey! I think I may have given you guys the wrong key, sorry about the mix-up. I know you’re probably on a tight schedule so I can make up for any lost time or jobs.”

A somewhat surprised smile was sent his way before the unknown man scratched at the scruff of his beard. He seemed friendly enough to Steve. As expected given the way the mover looked, his voice was deep and rough like the gravel on which they stood.

“It’s no problem, doll. Things like this happen. Don’t worry about the pay, ‘ts not like we had much business anyway. Thanks for uhh not losing you shit at me.”

Not wanting to seem rude, Steve scoured the man’s uniform for some kind of name-tag. Slightly hidden by the fold of his jacket, the lapel pin was labelled in a clear and plain font.

“You’re the kind one, J.B, still sticking around even when the job could only be done half-way. Oh, sure I’d never do that, no use getting mad at somebody when you never know what kinda day they had. Name’s steve by the way.”

Digging around in his pockets, his hands came to find a small set of jingling keys. Glancing at the old and somewhat gothic styled key, Steve held it out for the man with a smile. J.B had a hard face, one that was masculine with its defined jaw and light smattering of stubble. Exactly Steve’s type appearance wise anyways. Unfortunately, roughly ninety-four percent of guys were straight. There was no use bothering.

After the key was taken by J.B, Steve swore he could see a twitch of something in the face before him. Instead of dwelling on something minor and making a mountain over a molehill, Steve’s focus was soon swept away by the scenery. Spread out behind the mansion and roughly fifty meters in front of him, the hill upon which the house stood dropped off into a bluff. Like a terraced garden, the lower plateau was covered in flowers, thistle and shrubbery. Even further beyond the meadow was a cliff that dropped off and enabled him to see the city center from a high vantage-point. Seeing the city from such a distance was just a reminder of how tiny this place really was. In total, the square was about only a combination of nine or so city blocks. He’d have liked to gaze longer at the rolling hills of green and grey, but his mind soon reminded him of J.B’s presence.

J.B was not there.

Shrugging, Steve assumed the man had simply gotten to work and returned to the van. There was nothing wrong with that of course, but he’d admit to wanting to speak with J.B for just a bit longer. There was just something about the way his dark eyes twinkled while talking with that rich and deep voice. Steve knew what that something was, it was the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in years. Shaking his head, he continued back around the house to meet Natasha. The gravel was just as satisfying to crunch over as it had been before, but the bird was no longer calling.

Yawning as he rounded the corner, he saw that the back of the truck had now been opened along with the front door to his new home. Back onto him, Natasha was talking to a group of two men whose faces were obscured. Given the angle of which he was looking, along with the heavy soup of fog, her fiery bob managed to block out their faces all-together. Briefly guessing which was J.B, Steve assumed it to be the taller and firmer man on the left. Steve hoped that Natasha wouldn’t notice his obvious ogling of J.B’s muscles. It was almost indecent the way in which the mover’s outfit clung to his biceps. Once more ridding the thought from his mind, he remembered that trucker’s weren’t likely to be that liberal-minded anyway. At best, he’d end up with a harsh rejection and at worse left black and blue in a ditch somewhere. He could picture the last case fresh in his mind as it flashed across the T.V screen, things like that did happen even in their day and age.

Upon approaching, their faces came into view, a shaggy brunet and a man with long orange locks. Somewhat confused at a certain person’s absence, Steve glanced around the scene. Pulse increasing, his breath followed. Natasha glanced his way. Taking a deep breath, he thought over things rationally. The door to his home was opened and he had given J.B the key, he was inside moving boxes. Natasha’s voice distracted his stupor.

“Hey, Steve, what’d you find back there?”

Unsure and anxious, he decided to omit.

“Oh, nothing. Just a good view.”

In more ways than one.

“Well, might as well get inside now and check things out. Hopefully you’re not bothered by dust. We were waiting for you to get back but I found a key in my coat pocket, the spare I had copied for myself.”

With a laugh, Steve sniffled in anticipation before walking up the creaking steps of the front porch. Old wood was stained a rather nice light color, meshing nicely with the doll-house pink exterior. As vibrant as most people presumed pink to be, the more Steve looked at the exterior paint job, the more dull and washed out it appeared to be. With this much fog and the sheer age of the paint, it was actually just rather depressing. All he could hope for was better weather, there was no way this sort of atmosphere would ever be helpful in regards to his general temperament. At least the air still smelled fresh and of the forest, that was the real lifesaver. Upon entering the foyer of the home, Steve sniffed idly. The aroma of mahogany and parchment was what hit him first, along with mildew and stale air of course. It wasn’t pleasant in any way, but not something to which he was not accustomed from city living. Footsteps followed them into the home, it was the two men carrying boxes. After one was carefully laid down, the mover wiped pearls of sweat from his brow.

“This will probably take a while, with just two of us and all.”

His key was still missing, it wasn’t reappearing in his pocket and he wasn’t imagining the interaction with J.B. Nausea rolled in his stomach, he didn't want to think about this too hard. The redhead mover was smiling at Steve with a box in his hand, but he was anything but happy.


End file.
